


Friction

by exbex



Category: due South
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When surfaces in contact move relative to each other, the friction between the two surfaces converts kinetic energy into heat.  Traction is the friction between a body and the surface on which it moves; or the act of pulling on a bone to relieve pressure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friction

It had stopped snowing by the time Meg wrapped her scarf tightly and locked the door of the Consulate behind her. It was December, still early enough in the winter season for the snow to be a novelty and the cold to be tolerated and even welcomed because it was part of the holiday season. Chicago was prettier underneath a fresh blanket, and Meg could almost pretend it was Toronto, though she couldn’t understand her wistfulness. She couldn’t describe it as homesickness, because home didn’t have a clear definition for her, and the restlessness that she felt here had followed her from Canada.  
“Can I walk you home?”  
Meg almost startled, but caught herself, and turned to find Ray just a few feet away. The briefest of glances behind him revealed that he was without his black car, and she felt a twinge of worry. She would personally never understand the love some people had for their vehicles, but she could respect it.  
“Ray…did something happen to your car?”  
Ray just shrugged one shoulder and gave her a smile. “Nah, it’s just a nice night for a walk.” He reached out an arm as he approached and she let him slide it around her elbow, noticing that he was subtly directing her with his movements so that she wouldn’t be walking on the street side. Meg knew exactly why Ray was here, and it still bewildered her as much as the intensity of the looks he had given her weeks ago, during that case that was so bizarre it made the Henry Allen incident look pedestrian, the looks that she had dismissed due to the intensity of the situation and how they had been forced to work together and think on their feet. But then came the cordial invitations for coffee and eventually dinner, the bouquets of simple flowers (nothing as assuming as roses), the surprisingly easy conversations, the frequency of which Ray was appearing at the Consulate, far more often than had ever been necessary (and Meg could swear that Fraser and Turnbull were in on it somehow, especially the way they made themselves scarce whenever Ray found an excuse to chat).  
They had not stated anything. And, aside from a few chaste kisses on her cheek, they hadn’t touched. It bewildered Meg nearly as much as the man himself did, and she didn’t know how to feel, but she was weary, and for the first time in her life, she allowed herself not to panic over her complete lack of control over a situation.  
“You’re not wearing work clothes.” Ray’s voice broke into her thoughts, and there was nothing in it save a simple observation.  
“Yes, it’s easier to walk in these, and I get tired of public transportation.”  
“I wouldn’t mind, you know. Picking you up. Or walking you home. If you don’t mind.”  
Meg looked over at him but his expression was impassive. “I wouldn’t mind that either.”  
The fall was so rapid that she didn’t have time to react, her snow-packed shoe hitting the patch of ice just right. She heard Ray curse and felt him shove her, until they both landed gracelessly but unharmed, in a pile of snow, facing one another, his body pinning her.  
Her heart was racing, either from the fall or because he was this close to her. It didn’t matter; she was occupied first with the thought that they must be a comical sight, and second with the surprising realization that she hadn’t trusted anyone this much in a very long time, and how illogical that was but also that it felt as if a pressing weight was being lifted from her shoulders.  
He was on his feet, apologizing and asking if she was okay. “I’m fine,” she reassured him. “Thank you for catching me; that was some quick thinking.” She paused, and looked him directly in the eyes. “You’re rather good at that, I’ve noticed.”  
Meg couldn’t tell if Ray’s blush was from the cold air or her compliment. “S’nothing. You sure you’re okay? That’s some pretty cold snow.”  
“I can handle it,” she waved her hand. “I’m the Ice Queen.” Her eyes widened slightly. She had meant to say ‘Canadian’ but the nickname that she hadn’t heard in weeks had slipped out for no reason that she could discern.  
There was a flash of something in his eyes for a moment, but his voice remained the same. “Ice is strong, yeah.”  
When they got to her building, he stopped just below the top step. “Well, it’s late,” he said, as she walked to the door, and she felt the frustration of not knowing. “Stay,” she replied, turning around and reaching out her hand. “Or at least come in for a moment, have a cup of tea. Maybe let me call you a cab.” She felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold when he took her hand, stepped up beside her, and grinned. “Sounds great.”  
It wasn’t lost on her, the irony of their situation. That a man who seemed to have trouble being still could give her a sense of calm, that they had irritated one another for so long, but now they seemed to fit somehow. Meg was used to getting answers, but some questions were apparently meant to hang in the air, like so many snowflakes.


End file.
